Portrait of a Pince
by Mitie Mouse
Summary: Who exactly is Madame Pince? A look at her seventh and final year at Hogwarts will reveal a secret past unknown to almost all in the wizarding world. Pince's biggest problem? Tom Riddle.
1. Default Chapter

Brief Summary of "Portrait of a Pince:" So little is known about Madame Pince, the librarian of Hogwarts. However, a fate that shrouds her past and future alike awaits her as she returns to Hogwarts in her seventh year as Head Girl. Several run-ins with the Head Boy, Tom Riddle, go unnoticed as part of normal life for Victoria Pince. But what she doesn't know is that the pale, dark-haired boy that makes her life miserable is going to take her for a life-changing ride that she will never forget for as long as she lives.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.  
  
Portrait of a Pince  
  
Chapter One  
  
Taking a deep breath of fresh Hogwarts air thick with magic and anticipation, Victoria Pince bounded down the steps from the Hogwarts Express. Here she was again, back for one more go around. Excited beyond belief, she turned around, tapping her foot as she impatiently awaited the emergence of her best friend from the train.  
  
"MINNIE! Come ON!!" she shouted when she could no longer wait. Her stomach rumbled as she thought of the delicious feast just screaming to be dug into and the friends that she hadn't seen in an entire summer all waiting for her in the Great Hall.  
  
"Awwww, is pooooor Torrie HUNGRY?" a simpering voice teased in her ear, laced with false pity. Victoria knew at once who it was. "I suppose you came back to Hogwarts just to get a good meal. Completely understandable, what with YOUR family's economic status. After all, it certainly wasn't your talent or grades that brought you back."  
  
Whirling around, she smiled smugly when she heard a good slap as her hair whipped Tom Riddle's face. Thinking quickly, aiming to attack as he was still blinking his watery, assaulted eyes, she prepared for the first battle of the year.  
  
"Look, Tom, I know you really wanna talk to me all the time, but making fun of me is simply not the way to go about it. Perhaps if you REALLY wanted me to like you, you'd be nice and treat me like a human being with feelings," Victoria suggested helpfully, barely able to keep the vicious grin off her face.  
  
" Want YOU to like ME? YOU, Victoria Pince? Oh, please, give me a break. In your dreams," Tom broke into a cruel laugh, tears streaming down his face, clutching his stomach which appeared to be aching from such raucous laugher. He apparently thought the idea of having a crush on Victoria was extremely hilarious. Victoria, however, was not amused.  
  
"Bug off, Riddle," she growled, no longer in the mood for witty, scathing comebacks.  
  
"My pleasure, Pince," Tom managed to squeeze out between maniac chuckles. Motioning to his two cronies, Venomous Malfoy and Malcolm Flint, Tom Riddle waltzed confidently away through the crowd of returning Hogwarts students, ignoring the adoring stares he got from several fourth-year Hufflepuff girls on his way.  
  
"OOOOOO that Riddle makes me SO MAD! Just because I'm not exactly rolling in gold like him doesn't make me inferior!" Victoria exploded, noticing the appearance of her best friend and Gryffindor room-mate, Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"Oh, would you shut your mouth?! You've been going on about that Riddle almost the entire train ride. If I hear one more bitter word escape your mouth, I do think I'm going to haul off and slap you! You, Victoria Pince, Head Girl of Hogwarts and Gryffindor Quidditch Seeker and Captain have much more to talk about. Don't waste your breath on scum like Tom Riddle!" Minerva burst out, startling Victoria from her fuming and rather frightening thoughts concerning what she'd like to do to Tom Riddle.  
  
An apologetic and sheepish look upon her face, Victoria realized that Minerva was right. "I'm sorry, Minnie, I know you're right. It just seems that he's there around every corner. I can't seem to escape him, stupid git."  
  
"Ah-ah-ah, WHAT did I say?" Minerva reiterated menacingly.  
  
"I know, I know. Not one more word," Victoria agreed with unmistakable resolution in her clear voice. Sweeping her long, reddish- brown hair over her shoulder, she changed her tone almost immediately. "Now, let's go up to the Great Hall and get the Sorting over with. I'm starving, and it's bloody hot out here!"  
  
  
  
Victoria joined in the contagious cheers and whistles as the Gryffindor table exploded in applause for its newest member, Jonathan Weasley. With only a handful of scared-looking first-years left to be sorted, everyone was buzzing with excitement, attempting to quickly pass the time before the delicious Hogwarts feast magically materialized onto their plates.  
  
Catching sight of the newest Weasley in a state of panic, seeming not to be able to locate his horde of brothers and sisters among the wildly enthusiastic Gryffindors, Victoria ignored Crystal Trelawney being sorted into Hufflepuff and called out to the nervous, red-headed boy.  
  
"Jon-jon, come sit next to us!"  
  
Jonathan turned a brilliant shade of red that complimented his hair nicely and glared daggers at Victoria, but complied with her request. Plopping down into the empty seat next to the Head Girl, he said in a sidelong whisper, "Torrie, I would really appreciate if you'd keep some aspects of our home relationship confidential. I don't think it's very dignified to be called Jon-jon among one's peers."  
  
Victoria rolled her eyes in exasperation. Jonathan was undoubtedly the most intelligent Weasley yet, but some things never changed.  
  
"Fine, Jonathan," she said, emphasizing his full name to the point that it sounded quite ridiculous and unfitting for the small boy, "I won't tell a single soul that you're practically family to the Head Girl. Or should I let that part be known?" She smiled widely and smugly as Jonathan took hardly seconds to consider this proposal.  
  
"No, no, that part's all right. Just don't. Don't. Oh, look, just don't embarrass me, ok? I plan on having a smooth and unnoticed life here, if I can manage that with the blokes I happen to have the misfortune of calling my brothers," Jonathan hurriedly explained. Being so close to the Head Girl would undoubtedly gain him at least a few friends.  
  
"Too late, I'm afraid, Johnny-boy," a familiarly mischievous voice confirmed Jonathan's worst fears as a tall boy with similar flaming hair slid into a recently vacated seat next to his little brother. Daniel Weasley was somewhat of a lady's man in Gryffindor, with his tall, muscular frame and tussled carrot-colored hair.  
  
"Oh, no," Jonathan groaned. "I'd thought you'd finally decided to leave me alone and stop ruining my life."  
  
"Are you kidding? That's what big brothers are for! Now, if I'm not mistaken, the fun is about to begin," Daniel rebuttled with a jaunty grin as his eyes refocused themselves on the staff table where Professor Dippet was just standing to make his start-of-term announcements.  
  
"Welcome, students, to what I'm sure will be the best year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yet!" the old headmaster stated grandly, his arms wide open in a gesture of hospitality and grandness.  
  
"He ALWAYS says that," Minerva moaned in disgust. "Doesn't he posses the intelligence to come up with something different every once in a while?"  
  
"I think that'd be too much of a stress for that 'ole guy. After all, you can't teach an old dog new tricks!" Victoria giggled back maliciously.  
  
"Before I begin my announcements, a young man has asked that he be allowed to make an announcement of his own. I turn the spotlight over to Ernest Weasley!"  
  
"Oh, no, please say I'm dreaming," Jonathan whispered desperately.  
  
"Sorry, old boy. Ernie and I have planned a little something for your first day at dear old Hogwarts," Daniel smiled cheerfully.  
  
"Someone please shoot me," Jonathan begged.  
  
"HELLLLOOOOOOOO HOGWARTS!" Ernie called as soon as his voice had been magnified. There was a round of thundering applause amid more than a few whistles and whoops in response to Ernie's bold greeting. Ernie seemed to possess the same charm as his twin brother.  
  
"As I'm sure you all know, as of this year, there's a Weasley in every single year! It shouldn't come as any surprise, on the contrary, it should be an event to be celebrated!" Ernie continued cheekily. There was a spattering of laughter around the Great Hall.  
  
"Now, the least we could all do is commemorate this day by giving a great Hogwarts welcome to the Weasley that made the Weasley Invasion complete! I'd like you to give a great round of applause for my dearest little brother, JONATHAN WEASLEY!!!!!!"  
  
There was again thundering applause accompanied by several craning necks as the student population of Hogwarts attempted to catch a glimpse of the most unfortunate little guy. Everyone was completely aware that this was not a kind, brotherly introduction, but an extremely hilarious hazing joke played on a little squirt of a sibling.  
  
"Run for it, Jon-jon. You know where the Tower is. The password is Ridiculously dressed rhinoceros. GO!" Victoria urged a terrified Jonathan, and on her word he stood up to run as fast as his little legs would carry him.  
  
"Where do you think YOU'RE going, pipsqueak?!" Daniel asked amusedly, and grabbed a handful of Jonathan's robes to stop him from going anywhere.  
  
"Here he is, Ernie!" Daniel shouted up to his twin brother at the staff table. "Everyone, meet Johnny-boy!"  
  
Victoria had never heard more laughter in one place before. Nor had she ever seen someone as red and livid as little "Johnny-boy" Weasley. She feared to be Danny and Ernie when their little brother and the other Weasleys got hold of them. Not to mention what would happen when their mother caught wind of their little prank.  
  
But she had to admit, it sure was a heck of a joke.  
  
  
  
Eventually the giggles died down and the staring, pointing, and whispering minimized and stopped all together. Usually nothing stayed in the minds of the teenage witches and wizards of Hogwarts for long, especially when food was involved.  
  
Professor Dippet had decided it would be best to make his announcements once the excitement around Ernie's little announcement had died down and he could be easily heard without having to struggle against poor little Jonathan for the students' attention. He had simply announced the feast, muttered something to Ernie, pointedly glared at Danny still holding Jonathan's robes, and stalked back to his chair at the head of the staff table. By the look on Ernie's face, his family would not be the only ones extracting payment for his and his brother's stunt. Victoria had smiled triumphantly as Danny had let go of Jonathan and sulked back to his place next to Ernie with the rest of the Weasleys further down the table.  
  
"You know, Jon-jon, if you'd like to go sit with your brothers, you can go ahead and move down there," Victoria prompted Jonathan after taking a swig of ice-cold pumpkin juice.  
  
"That's ok, Torrie. I don't think I could stand sitting near those two buffoons. I should have known it would be impossible to live a normal life. I've already been labeled as the stupid, silly, poor little brother of Ernie and Danny Weasley. I'll never live this down. I'd much rather stay here if you don't mind," Jonathan sighed as he started down at his plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes. He reached for another buttered roll.  
  
"No problem, John. We're pleased to have you," Minerva called from around Victoria. It was no secret that Minerva thought Jonathan was the most adorable thing that had ever walked the planet. Victoria wouldn't have been surprised if she offered to adopt him as her own little brother.  
  
Jonathan rolled his eyes and stuffed his mouth with bread. If there was one thing all of the Weasleys had in common, it was that absolutely nothing ruined their appetites.  
  
Just as Jonathan had finally finished his last bite of heavily frosted and sprinkled chocolate cake, with all the people around him watching in fixation and disgust at his ability to eat more than all of them combined, Professor Dippet stood up to try again with his announcements.  
  
"Now that we've all eaten and settled down," he began, a slight undertone of aggravation in his pleasant voice, "I'm going to make a few announcements. As always, the Forbidden Forest is, just as its name suggests, strictly forbidden. Also, I'm pleased to introduce your new Defense Against the Arts teacher, Professor Arietta Jenkins, and your new History of Magic teacher, Professor Yaanagun Binns. I expect you'll treat them with respect and obedience just as you regard the rest of our teaching staff. Without further ado, it is my pleasure to announce that the school year has officially begun! Follow your prefects to your House dormitories, please, and get a good night's rest for your first day of classes!"  
  
Victoria rose dutifully and began her work as Head Girl of Hogwarts and Gryffindor prefect. "All Gryffindors, follow me! I will escort you to the common room and issue the password!" she called proudly. Her House obediently headed toward the doors of the Great Hall as she purposefully led the way. Victoria Pince was one who commanded respect from all of her peers without doing much but being her amazing self.  
  
Victoria had almost reached the first flight of stairs, engaged in a joint effort with Minerva in telling Jonathan how much fun he was going to have at Hogwarts and that his brothers hadn't ruined his chances surviving normally when a cold, malicious voice stopped her in her tracks.  
  
"Well, well, well, it seems the worst Head Girl in the history of this school has befriended the outcast of all time. How's your face, Weasley? Is it still red or is that fading? You must be a pretty large bugger of a nuisance if your own BROTHERS turn against you. Of course, if another snothead little kid had come along to eat up my family's scant amount of money, I'd be annoyed, too. Perhaps they're trying to make you run away so they can afford more for themselves?" Tom Riddle called up the staircase, his eyes narrowed and a twisted grin upon his foul, pale face.  
  
Victoria couldn't take it anymore as Jonathan lowered his head in shame, unable to defend himself against the cruel monster.  
  
"Oh, and I suppose you don't have any bigger fish to fry, Riddle? Going after the first-years now, are you? Scared that one of these days someone else a little bit more your size is going to make you look like a fool?" Victoria called back on an impulse to Riddle and his cronies. She mentally kicked herself as soon as she heard her voice echo through the entrance hall, knowing full well that a quarrel between the two Heads was considered unacceptable. But her infringement became well worth the consequences when she had the pleasure of witnessing Riddle's smug smirk waver for a moment.  
  
"No, dear Victoria, I just have a better grasp of my station and responsibilities than you, obviously. I have the brains not to pick a fight with the Head Girl. Or, in your case, the Head Boy. Perhaps you'd like to rethink your rash accusations," he replied. He managed to make the lamest comeback sound absolutely scathing. And he managed to make normally level-headed Victoria Pince's blood boil.  
  
"I will not, you pompous git. Now go pick on someone your own size before I report your simply shameful behavior to Professor Dippet. I'm sure he wouldn't take kindly to his Head Boy heartlessly teasing the first- year students. Unless of course you wish to have your title removed. In that case, you can go to him yourself," Victoria fired back, her face flushing with anger and spite.  
  
It was one of the more rewarding feelings of victory in Victoria's life as she witnessed Tom Riddle at a loss for words. Without anything to come back with, he resorted to name-calling.  
  
"I would look in the mirror before you go so far as to call me a pompous git," he spat desperately, and with a swish of robes and a motion of the hand to Malfoy and Flint, he was gone, his shoes tapping faintly as he strode quickly back into the Great Hall.  
  
The Gryffindors cheered and Jonathan looked up at Victoria, his face shining with admiration and gratitude. "That was bloody brave of you, Torrie. I reckon you saved my life!"  
  
"I did no such thing," Victoria assured him briskly, her face flushing scarlet from all the praise. "Now, we must get to the Tower. I daresay Professor Dumbledore will not take kindly to an entire House being out after hours."  
  
And with that, Victoria turned and began to climb the stairs, bringing the ordeal to a closure. As soon as her face was not visible to the rest of the lot behind her, a satisfied smile snaked it's way onto her fair, heart-shaped face.  
  
Down in the dungeons, brooding before the lukewarm fire in a firm, high-backed green chair, Tom Riddle could only say one thing to his expectant followers.  
  
"Victoria Pince has crossed Tom Riddle one too many times. She will pay."  
  
  
  
A/N: Okie-dokie, there it is. I worked really hard on that chapter. The idea jumped into my head, but I must say that getting the story off the ground did not. Lol. Hoooooooow aboooooout, OH I'VE GOT IT! Some nice reviews to reward my hard work!! Please? If I get good reviews of my story, I'll continue it. If I don't, well, there's no point, now is there? Just some tidbits about the setting: I figured that Madame Pince was old, just by the few descriptions that are found in J.K. Rowling's books. Does everyone remember who Madame Pince is? The librarian at Hogwarts. No one knows a single thing about her, and she's hardly ever mentioned in the books. So, I figured I'd give her a chance to shine, and communicate my version of her history to any readers who happen to be interested. So, since Madame Pince was old in my mind, at least, I decided to put her in school with everyone's grandparents/great-grandparents. Which one seems more likely? Now, I decided that the main fire behind my story would be that Tom Riddle was also in school with Victoria. And there you have it. My story was born.  
  
One more thing. I've noticed that Rowling gives many of her characters extremely significant names. If you can pick up on a few of these names, you get a cookie!!! Hehehe. And I'll mention your handy detective work in my next chapter. Some are pretty easy. Others aren't. I'll tell you, also, if they're all discovered. Now, that's about all I got to say! Review, please! I hope to catch whoever reads next chapter!  
  
~*Mitie Mouse*~ 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.  
  
Portrait of a Pince  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Tom knelt on the dusty storeroom floor, the old, musty floorboards creaking under his weight. He gazed impatiently into the fire he had laboriously poked into existence, waiting. Checking his watch, he felt the pangs of annoyance well up inside him. They knew that, being at Hogwarts, he didn't have much time or space to himself. There was no room for tardiness. If they were going to schedule an appointment, they had better be punctual. Just preparing to raise himself from in front of the decrepit old fireplace, emitting flurries of dust and soot from it's fiery depths, Tom heard a slight popping noise. He settled back down into his position on the floor. "So, you DID decide to show up, Wellington?" Tom asked in a cold, piercing voice: the only sign of his annoyance. His face was impassive, as though he had placed a stone mask upon it. Tom was always careful not to reveal anything to anyone in his dealings. "I apologize for the delay, Riddle. We had some trouble at the warehouse," the head that had materialized in the fire relayed back, his voice as flat as Tom's face, holding no sign of remorse at all. "What sort of trouble?" Tom inquired, his interest sparked. There couldn't be interference now. His whole plan would be ruined! He had worked too long and too hard on this for it to be destroyed. "Rebels. They seem to have discovered the true function of the unit. We quelled the current dispatch, but it's only a matter of time before they send another. Our reconnaissance agents are removing all valuable merchandise as we speak, and then the unit will be destroyed. We have other, well-placed spots. Not quite as efficient and organized as the warehouse, but nonetheless functional. We have no choice but to retreat into concealment until another unit can be established. All dealings are being placed on hold for an undetermined period of time," Wellington replied gravely, failing to cloak his disappointment and the actual seriousness of the situation. "Does that mean?" Tom asked eagerly, almost fearfully, unwilling to complete the question. Wellington knew what he was asking. The man's surly, bulky face pulled itself into a hideous grimace, and his deep, thick voice confirmed Tom's worst fears. "Yeah, that's right. All Hogwarts activity will be canceled until the new unit is up and running. We don't know how long that'll take, ya know. But," Wellington added slyly and somewhat hastily as Tom's face fell with unmistakable disappointment, "There will be one more job for you, Riddle. A big one. One that will pay so well, you'll probably not miss the pay-off from the lay-over. Are you up for it?" Tom weighed his options. If he said yes, he'd hear all the plans and receive all the accommodations and supplies he'd need. Plus the prepayment for the job. And if he successfully performed the job, he'd get paid in full, possibly receiving a bonus for above-and-beyond work. But if he said yes and heard the plans, he was as legally bound as it was possible to be in an illegal business. He was strictly obligated to do the job, no backing out. On the other hand, what did he have to lose? He was here at Hogwarts in his seventh year and had no apparent future waiting for him. He hadn't contemplated any sort of job or lifestyle besides what his plan dictated. If the lay-over on the transactions was long, he might graduate, and would no longer be useful to the business. They'd get another Hogwarts agent, and without Hogwarts, Tom had nothing. If the pay-off from this job was big enough, he could finally reach his goal, and set his plans into action. And the heavy-set man with the sharply chiseled face that was sitting in his fire seemed to think that it was. "All right, Wellington. Hit me." A half an hour later, Tom Riddle emerged from the seventh floor attic storage room, an extremely smug look on his face. After glancing along the corridor and confirming that the coast was clear, he strode to the opposite wall and slid aside a tapestry that revealed a moldy wooden door. Tom turned the rusted brass handle, slipped inside the secret passage that led to the dungeons, and snapped the door shut as the tapestry fell back into place. Victoria Pince stepped out from around the statue of a Willacious the Warted and stared hard at the tapestry that had just swished down to hide the door behind it. "That's an interesting little passageway," Victoria mused to herself. "Wonder what dear Tom was doing skulking in there." Victoria walked to the attic storage room Tom had recently vacated and peered through the door that had been left slightly ajar. Victoria knew nobody went up these attics anymore, she had to pass by this corridor every day on her way to Divination. Most students took the main stairwells, but she had discovered this winding little shortcut. There were a few embers still smoldering in the fireplace, and Tom's footsteps could be seen clearly in the coat of dust that had settled over the last couple of decades on the ancient wooden floor. Judging by the sizably larger spots in front of the mantle, Tom had been kneeling before the fire. Victoria didn't know what was going on, but she didn't like it. Making her way back through the corridor, throwing a glance at the suspicious tapestry on her way, she decided that she'd better keep on eye on her fellow Head. But for now, she had to go to Divination.  
  
  
  
"What do you mean, a secret door? And a fire? In one of the attics? Torrie, I think you're exaggerating. Or at least hallucinating. Nobody goes up there anymore, much less lights a fire. And you know we know all the passageways by now. There can't be another way up there," Minerva thought out loud in response to Victoria's relation of what had transpired on the seventh floor that day. "Exactly. First of all, nobody goes up there anymore. But I saw Tom in that attic storage room. And second of all, why light a fire? But there were definitely fresh ashes, and all the prints in the dust showed that Tom was kneeling in front of a fire he apparently built. And finally, we know all the passages. We must have been through this castle from top to bottom a hundred times. We know there are hardly any on the seventh floor, and certainly none by the dinky attics. But Tom went through a door behind a tapestry! Something fishy's going on, and I'm going to find out. I know Tom's up to something. This is finally my chance to bust him!" Victoria exclaimed excitedly. It was common knowledge (except to Professor Dippet apparently) that Tom Riddle was a very prominent Slytherin. And prominent Slytherins always had something up their sleeve. If Victoria could expose Riddle, then his Head Boy title would be renounced. With that enormous blow to his ego, Victoria was sure he'd lay off terrorizing the school. And plus, she had a score to settle with Riddle. This was exactly the chance she'd been waiting for.  
  
  
  
"Ok, boys, Flint, stop making that revolting mess! Didn't your mother ever teach you how to eat properly. I know how to eat like a human being, and I've never even met my mother!" Tom began at dinner that night. Flint had the irking habit of resembling a pig when anything remotely similar to food came into his eyesight. Watching him eat that food was even worse. Flint looked up from his plate of what now looked like discolored slop, a few drops of glop sliding down his chin and falling with a slight plop onto his plate. Tom rolled his eyes and made a disgusted grunt somewhere in his throat. "As I was saying," he restarted, his eyes narrowing at Flint, "here's the deal. I got a new assignment this afternoon. This assignment, however, is going to require more stealth and preparation than the others we have flawlessly executed. Meet me by the painting of Pandora's Box in the back dungeon corridor tonight at midnight. No sooner, no later. I have a few details to discuss with the two of you. I have a few things to take care of beforehand this evening." As Tom finished doling out his instructions with an obvious flourish, he happened to glance up from the conspiratorial huddle. It was habit to glance around suspiciously, scrutinizing his surroundings. In this business, anybody could be listening, and anybody could be your enemy. You had to be extremely careful. His eyes traveled across the Great Hall, searching every table for some sign of eavesdropping or specific notice. As he scanned the Ravenclaw table and found no evidence of either of the give-away behaviors, his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the Gryffindor table. His bright, piercing blue eyes caught the shining, presently narrowed emerald green eyes of none other than Victoria Pince. It seemed as though their intense looks were locked together, and Tom suddenly forgot to appear inconspicuous. Victoria's eyes were full of malice and suspicion, and she reminded him for all the world, for just that moment, of a vicious tiger, dangerous and cunning, crouched for the lethal pounce that would end the life of its prey. Her reddish hair shone in the golden lamplight, and Tom could just imagine black stripes all through it. In the end, Tom and Victoria's eye lock ended only when Flint accidentally stuck an elbow awry in his feeding frenzy and nearly knocked Tom out of his seat. Rubbing the spot where the gigantic boy's elbow had come into painful contact with his chest, and completely winded, Tom rounded on Flint and simply glared at him while he caught his breath. As soon as he had, Flint received a very thorough and threatening telling-off.  
  
When Tom had finished with his huge crony, he glanced quickly across the hall, almost involuntarily. But Victoria was know absorbed in an animated conversation with Minerva McGonagall and Jonathan Weasley. A few others near the trio were listening in, bemused smiles playing on their faces. "Filth," Tom hissed to himself. "She'll learn her place when I'm through with her. And those Mudbloods and wizarding disgraces she calls friends will be just as sorry as she. They'll be sorry they idolized such, such FILTH!" "What was that, my Lord?" Malfoy asked silkily over Tom's shoulder. He had heard his friend muttering bitterly to himself, and he knew perfectly well what had caused such an outburst. He had been observing his master for quite some time now, and Malfoy knew Riddle like the back of his own hand. "Nothing Malfoy," Tom hissed quickly, seemingly embarrassed that he had been caught letting off steam. "I will be off, now. I must make the necessary arrangements for our meeting." And with a last calm, cool, calculating glance down his nose at Flint and Malfoy, Tim had gracefully slid out of his seat and glided down the stairs toward the dungeons. "I suppose that leaves us on our own till midnight," Flint spoke thickly around a mouthful of something altogether indistinguishable. Malfoy simply glanced repulsively at the gigantic, messy Flint. Across the Great Hall, a certain reddish-haired, green-eyed, tigress of a Head Girl slipped out of her own seat and headed toward the nearest twisting back corridor that would take her to the dungeons as well.  
  
  
  
Tom stood with his hands behind his back, his feet shoulder-width apart, staring vapidly at the painting of Pandora's Box. He had chosen this one for his scheming sessions with Flint and Mafloy several years ago, before their sessions had become a more serious thing with his involvement in the business. For some reason, the depiction of the colorful, enticing box spilling out the dark, shadowy, truly frightening evil that supposedly corrupted the tranquil Earth sent shivers up his spine. "Soon," he thought at the menacing evil in the painting. "Soon, you will know a leader the likes of which you have never known before in all your ancient years." But even as he was taking delight in his dark and secretive thoughts, his mind flickered to the one person he had reason to believe might seriously suspect him of being something more than a mere bully. He tried to wrestle his consciousness back to his present contemplation of malice, but he couldn't muster up enough control to succeed. Sighing, he allowed his mind to wander. She knew something. Those eyes had contained something besides the emerald orbs through which she saw the world. There had been a sort of communication between them that night at dinner. It was as if she had told him herself that she knew, and he had been completely capable of recognizing the warning in the eyes of the predator. For that was what she undoubtedly was. A fierce predator, on the trail of its prey. And Tom had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what that prey was. Glancing up and down the corridor nervously, Tom became furious with himself. "Look at you! Allowing some silly, air headed girl give you qualms!" He took his arms from behind his back to cross them furiously across his chest, a sort of protest against his frivolous fears. No one knew about this painting. It was in such an obscure passageway that few every had cause to venture there, and that few was Flint, Malfoy, and himself. That was all. But he still couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he was being watched. "Sorry, my Lord, we came as quickly as we could. We had a bit of a hold-up in the common room. Serpentia wouldn't leave us alone. Wanted to know where you were," the dull, blundering voice of Flint sounded behind Tom's back. It took all of Tom's self-control to prevent himself from jumping in surprise. Whirling around, he glared at his cronies. Malfoy bent his head in smooth, graceful abashment. "Our deepest apologies, my Lord. It will not happen again." "Very well. I will forgive your lack of punctuality this time. What did you tell Ms. Snape?" Tom demanded pompously, fixing Flint with his piercing gaze. "Er, that you had gone to the kitchens for, er, a midnight snack," Flint muttered quietly, his face blushing red. He hadn't liked making up such a silly lie. "My Lord, women are easily won over by seemingly romantic causes. They are but giggling girls you know, looking for the excuse to squeal over the latest boy," Malfoy explained smoothly, not the least bit humiliated. "Good, good. I know I can always count on you Malfoy," Tom smiled silkily, and added as an afterthought "and you, Flint. Now, as I said before, this particular assignment is extremely unique, and requires much more preparation than usual. I have spoken to my source and received the details of the job, and have already begun to form a plot. However, apart from equipment and overall support, I regret to inform you that this assignment also requires flying solo. I must ask that the two of you consent not to participate. The assignment will not be successful with three people on the job. Too conspicuous, too clumsy, and too crowded. Do you understand?" "Whatever is required for the success of the assignment, my Lord. We understand perfectly, and we consent to lay low, so to speak. Best of luck to you, my Lord," Malfoy replied with no change of facial expression at all to register surprise or resentment. Flint only looked shocked and slightly disappointed. "Excellent. Now, you may go. I will remain her a while to think things through," Tom dismissed haughtily. Malfoy, followed by Flint, turned on their heels and strode briskly back down the corridor without a second glance back at Tom, looking strangely impressive, as he always did, standing in front of the painting of Pandora's Box, right at the spot that depicted the greatest culmination of dark, shadowy, vague shapes of evil. He turned once more and regained his previous stance, staring at the painting and brooding. At last, the tall, thin, dark-haired boy turned slowly around, and purposefully retreated down the corridor. Victoria, heart pounding, left her station from just behind a convenient statue of a horribly, magically mutilated old hag and scurried silently down the adjacent corridor. She breathed only when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind her, and she had gained the safety of Gryffindor common room. As she slowly and thoughtfully made her way up the staircase the seventh year girls' dormitory, she ran through the past evening in her mind. She slipped between her sheets fully dressed, barely noticing what was going on around her. Tom Riddle was definitely up to something, and it was up to her, Victoria Pince, to find out what exactly that something was. She fell asleep with a faint feeling of triumph, and an even bigger determined resolution.  
  
  
  
A/N: Ok, that's it. The second chapter. HOPEFULLY it'll be more popular than the first ::crosses fingers:: Apparently, there was some confusion regarding my name challenge in the last chapter. I didn't mean for you guys to find ROWLING'S significant names (although those were all very good, some of them I didn't know until you told me!), I was referring to those significant names contained in MY story. I'm extremely sorry for the confusion, I was unclear in my wording. But now, see if you can find some significant names and why in my story! Please review! The only way I know if people are even bothering to read what I write is if you guys review!!! I'd greatly appreciate it. Now, a few words to my previous reviewers: thanks for reviewing! All the names you submitted were very interesting. Good work! Lol. I especially thank those who said something in their review that was at least relevant to my story. And to that one reviewer who seemed to think there was a gliche in my story ("tom was poor,"): Oh ye of little faith. I do realize that Tom was poor, and I admit that my story can be misleading. But the differences between what is presently known about Tom Riddle from Rowling's own descriptions and the wealthy appearing Tom Riddle I have presented will be explained, and shortly. Just keep reading! Well, I do believe that's quite a long enough Author's Note. I leave you all with one last plea to REVIEW!!!! Please? See you all next chapter! 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.  
  
Portrait of a Pince  
  
Chapter Three  
  
"Professor Nile, may I please have a word?" Tom asked, plastering his most winning smile on his pale, flawless face.  
Victoria had to hand it to him. He was a heck of an actor. No wonder all the teachers seemed to fawn all over him.  
"Of course, Mr. Riddle. Of course," Professor Nile wheezed, his wrinkled old face splitting into a somewhat toothless grin. The senile old teacher motioned Tom to follow him to his desk, and the two became deeply involved in conversation, Tom appearing to be earnest and respectful in the presence of the aged man.  
"He is SUCH a phony," Victoria muttered under her breath, her flashing green eyes narrowed in the general direction of Tom's back. She was so distracted, she didn't even notice when she picked up her vial of cow bile instead of spider insulin. She tipped the bile into her steaming cauldron of watery light blue solution and ignored the small hissing noises that were emitting from her cauldron as each drop of bile splashed into the mixture.  
"TORRIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Minerva suddenly screamed through Victoria's fuming thoughts, interrupting her concentration on the little conference occurring at Professor Nile's desk.  
Victoria looked down at her cauldron, obviously not understanding what was so wrong. "Minnie, what do you"-  
Victoria never got to finish her question. Short popping noises began emitting from Victoria's cauldron, and splashes of the pale blue solution flew into the air along with the noises, landing on various objects (and people) with a plop. Phillip Donahue bellowed as a huge glop of Victoria's solution landed on his hand.  
"Watch out, she's going to blow!" Minerva screamed, and grabbed Victoria's wrist as she hurriedly ducked behind the table.  
Tom's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was happening. Pince's cauldron couldn't explode-her table was right next to his, and his bag was still there!  
Without thinking, Tom vaulted down the stone steps that lead up to Professor Nile's teaching platform and sprinted across the dungeon, nothing more than a black and white blur.  
"DAISY!" Victoria gasped, crouched behind the table with Minerva, as Tom was hauling across the dungeon. She flew from behind the desk and searched the table for her beloved pet mouse. She would never forgive herself if Daisy were killed in a potions accident that was all her fault.  
  
Tom reached his table and scooped up his bag, just as the watery solution in Victoria's cauldron was beginning to turn red from the heat and energy contained inside it. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, Tom whirled around to make his escape.  
Catching sight of Daisy, Victoria hastily snatched her from behind a row of beakers and turned in the same direction as Tom to run from the imminent disaster.  
The solution exploded.  
The resounding boom rocked the dungeon, and bits of cauldron, solution, and pure energy flew in all directions. Victoria hurled herself flat onto the dungeon floor in order to avoid the most harmful debris. Right into Tom Riddle.  
Tom and Victoria flew to the floor, hitting hard, Tom's stomach breaking most of Victoria's fall. Tom made a brief grunting noise as the air was knocked out of him. Even if either of the two had been capable of moving away from each other, they wouldn't have dared-debris from Victoria's cauldron was still whistling through the air above their heads.  
Victoria ducked as a particularly nasty-looking shard of cauldron came close to removing her head from her shoulders. Her head buried in Tom's robes, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed that nothing would fly lower.  
In a matter of seconds, the nasty mixture had completely evaporated, and the disaster was over. Victoria slowly raised her head and cracked her eyes. White dust hung heavily in the air, and the entire dungeon was covered in a pink, sparkly, crystalline powder. It looked like something right out of Candy Land. But the students knew better than to touch, much less eat any of the sparkly sugar. They knew what could happen if they dared come into contact with the unknown substance.  
As Victoria looked up, her eyes locked with Tom's, and she noticed that he was breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell with each gasping breath, and his heartbeat felt like a kettledrum playing an Irish jig under her hand, which was flattened against Tom's chest. Streaks of sparkly pink powder lined his jet- black hair, and his pale skin barely belied a trace of the powder as it was so white.  
He stared back at her, not saying a word or moving an inch. For a minute, Victoria could feel his breath catch in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat underneath her hand. His eyes searched her own, and she felt as if he was reaching inside her, trying to find something. What was he looking for?  
Professor Nile carefully and slowly unfolded himself from behind his desk. He cautiously eyed the pink powder that had descended upon the entire dungeon. Deciding that upon visual inspection, it wasn't dangerous, he timidly ran a finger through the powder on his desk. Nothing happened. Lifting his finger to his nose, he tentatively sniffed. Breathing a sigh of relief, he began to instruct the class.  
"Oh, it's only a sarconian-based polyhydrodiptherapod compound. Nothing too serious to worry about. Although you might find yourself slightly sparkly for the next couple of days, there aren't any meritable side effects. Everyone, I'd kindly ask you to report to Madame Pomfrey for a precautionary inspection, and then go immediately to your dormitories to wash up. Sarconia tends to irritate and itch slightly when left on the skin too long. Donahue, you'd better come with me right now."  
Phillip obediently came out of hiding from underneath his table and followed Professor Nile out of the dungeon, clutching his fizzling hand.  
Tom's eyes clouded over, and the spell was broken. "Get off of me!" he grunted indignantly, and shoved Victoria off unceremoniously. Victoria remained seated on the floor, her legs sprawled, gaping up at Tom. What had just happened?  
Tom brushed as much of the sparkly pink powder off his robes as he could manage with nothing but his hands, straightened them, and smoothed his powdered hair.  
Looking down his pale, elegantly arched nose at Victoria, he sneered. "Hope you enjoyed that, Pince. I'm afraid that's the closest to me you'll ever be permitted to get."  
Victoria blushed a little, but she didn't look away. There had been something in Tom just a minute ago, something that wasn't usually there, something that wasn't the normal, selfish, snotty Tom, but someone else entirely. Who had that been, trapped inside?  
Tom stood there shifting uncomfortably in the silence for a while. He wasn't accustomed to trashing Victoria without an equally scathing reply. What was the matter with her? And why was she looking at him so intensely like that?  
Not knowing what else to do, and not having a good comeback for nothing at all up his sleeve, Tom whirled around and stormed off, in a very bad temper indeed. Eddies of dust and powder flew off his robes as he stomped across the dungeon. As he neared the door, he shoved Cornelius Fudge back down onto the floor, causing him to get pink powder all over his robes after he'd so painstakingly brushed them off.  
As Tom turned the corner and disappeared into the hallway, Victoria was shaken out of her thoughtful trance when Minerva grabbed her head and forcefully turned it to look at her.  
"Is this the only way I'll ever be able to get your attention, now?" Minerva asked impatiently. "I've been trying to talk to you for the past five minutes!"  
"Oh, sorry Minnie, I was thinking," Victoria replied, pausing as she searched for the right word to describe just what it was she had been doing. She couldn't find one, so she settled on a likely excuse.  
"About what, may I ask? How you caused the entire dungeon along with all of us inside of it to be covered in sparkly pink powder or how you successfully managed to end Potions class an hour early? I don't know whether to punch you or kiss you!"  
"Oh, please, don't do either!" Victoria replied, grinning broadly. The events of the class were already fading into the background of her mind as she gibed with her best friend--although the slight itching on her hands and ears wasn't helping any. "I'm starting to itch. Let's skip Madame Pomfrey and go straight for the showers!"  
As the two girls gathered what was left of their school supplies and shoved them into their pink powdered, frayed satchels, Victoria noticed something heavy inside her sleeve. Rolling it back and looking for the source of the misplaced weight, she noticed a small gold key snagged on a loose thread. Ripping it free, she examined it closely.  
It was intricately wrought, covered in gold curls, swirls, and loops interlacing with one another. It looked like it belonged to a very complicated lock. It was definitely an outdated specimen-nobody bothered with locks since the invention of personally modified locking spells. But instead of appearing to be very old, it was remarkably shiny and well kept. Whoever owned this still used it.  
But whose was it? It must have gotten stuck on her robes in the explosion. But the only person she had come close enough to during all the commotion was.  
Victoria gasped at the thought. Surely it wasn't Riddle's?  
"What's wrong?" Minerva asked, straightening up from her bag, which she had been attempting to shove the last book into-in vain.  
"Oh, nothing," Victoria replied quickly. She tucked the key back inside her robes before Minerva could catch a glimpse of it. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to keep the key a secret, but for some reason, she just didn't like the idea of sharing it with everyone. She'd just keep it to herself until she figured out what to do with it.  
Victoria and Minerva headed off to their dormitory, Minerva chattering happily about something or other, and Victoria pretending to listen. What was she going to do about the key?  
  
Tom stared down at his dinner, merely picking at the huge heap of mashed potatoes that still remained there. As he swirled his fork around in the fluffy whiteness, he sighed heavily.  
Malfoy looked up fleetingly, his eyes sliding easily up from his own plate and back down, drinking in Tom and his apparent state of discontent in a mere seconds. Tom wouldn't have even known Malfoy had looked up if he hadn't known him and worked with him for so long.  
"Master, you look somewhat upset. Might I ask what the trouble is?" Malfoy asked smoothly in a voice equally as silky as his observations. He kept his voice low enough so that no one else at the Slytherin table heard but those intended to.  
Flint, however, was not so obliging. At the word "trouble," his gigantic head had swiveled stupidly on its extremely thick neck, and he grunted, rather loudly and without care or concern, "Trouble? What sort of trouble? Has something gone wrong?"  
As soon as the stares had stopped and everyone around Tom and his cronies had returned to eating, Tom cuffed Flint hard on the back of the head. "Idiot!" he whispered dangerously. "Do not EVER draw attention like that again! Honestly, you have the common sense of a baboon."  
Flint's face twisted into an expression of indignity and slight resentment, but Tom knew this was only out of humiliation.  
Turning back to his dinner, he realized that Malfoy was still staring expectantly at him. Pretending not to notice, Tom resumed his swirling and picking; however, when Malfoy cleared his throat ever-so-gently, Tom knew he had no choice but to offer some sort of explanation, or at least a refusal to explain. Malfoy was not one to be sidetracked.  
"It seems to me," Tom snapped suddenly, whipping his head from his plate, aiming to surprise Malfoy and therefore intimidate him, "that you are expecting an explanation as to my current behavior. Need I remind you that explanations are for me to decide who gets them and when, where, and why? I need explain nothing to you. Or have you forgotten?" Tom reached inside his robes, gently, lovingly fingering his wand, the gleaming wood smooth and powerful beneath his fingertips. Only once had he had to remind Malfoy of his place, and it was something the silver-haired, cunning bloke would never forget.  
"I beg your pardon, Master. My utmost apologies. It will not happen again," Malfoy replied so smoothly and calmly that Tom was only further annoyed.  
"I believe I will leave now, and seek the company of those more obedient and flattering than the two of you primates," Tom retorted in his heightening frustration. Rising gracefully from the bench in a single fluid motion, he turned on his heel and strode briskly from the Great Hall, toward the entrance to the dungeons.  
  
Tom stood in front of the huge, antique wooden door. At first glance, it appeared to be a massive structure, reeking importance and grandeur, but upon closer inspection, the cobwebs and veils of dust congregating in the cracks between the wooden plats and knots in the ancient wood revealed its age and state of uselessness.  
Tom had been down here many times before, staring at this mystery door, and by now the inscription written in dark script was as familiar as the back of his own hand. Nonetheless, he waited for the moonlight that he knew would reach through the small skylight in the stone roof of the chamber.  
Tom had no idea where he was. He had never been able to figure out exactly where this little area in the castle was, and it wasn't on any map or blueprint he'd ever seen (and he had been privileged enough to see many, many different maps and blueprints). That was only part of the mystery surrounding this door. It was undoubtedly below ground, and yet, there was still a skylight. A skylight that the sun refused to penetrate, but that was a regular medium for moonlight.  
As the moon shifted in the sky, and a last, straggling cloud was blown away like so many dandelion fronds, the pale silver beams cascaded through the skylight, gently tugging and pushing back the shadows that haunted in the corners. As it slowly, painstakingly made its way toward the huge, ancient door, Tom's eyes widened in shock. This was it!  
Tossing his bag onto the floor and ripping open the zipper, he began rummaging through the perfectly and obsessively organized piles of parchment and textbooks, haphazardly tossing things out onto the cobbled floor. Where was it??  
He'd had that key for years, something he'd picked up from the many places in the castle his countless dealings had taken him. He wasn't exactly sure where he'd found it anymore, or when, but that didn't matter. What mattered is that he'd tried just about every door in the castle, and the key had not fit any of them. He didn't know how long it had taken him, because he wasn't sure when he'd found the key anymore, but here he was in his seventh year, and it looked like there was only one door he hadn't tried. The one door he had always wanted to get behind, had always wanted to see opened, but had never been able to. The one door that had always been beyond his reach, tugging at the corners of his mind. Now where was the stupid key??  
It was gone. He had gone through his bag twice now, searching every nook and cranny, ever pocket, ever seam. He had even patted down his robes. And he knew he'd had it this morning. It wasn't in his dormitory. It was gone.  
Tom threw his head back and let out a bloodcurdling roar of rage. Not now! Not when he'd finally pieced together the mystery of the key that had plagued him for what seemed his entire life! Not now!  
Tom snapped his head forward, his eyes still flashing, the fire of his fury trapped in their cold, blue depths. The moonlight had crept to the door, and Tom stared transfixed at the words scrawled on the ancient wood in a flowing, curly script.  
  
"Behind the door which cannot be opened  
Lies a mystery unsolved  
Trapped and caged in secrets and wonder  
As the wheel revolved  
  
Who will open the closed door?  
Who will command the terror?  
One who knows no boundaries or restraints  
He who wields unimaginable Power."  
  
The key was gone. Tom slumped against the tauntalizing door and howled in bitter disappointment. He had to find the key again.  
  
Victoria sat before the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the flickering flames casting odd, dancing shadows on her face. It was late, and everyone had already retreated to their warm beds and the call of sleep, many leaving unfinished, abandoned assignments behind, littering the tables like autumn leaves.  
"Don't stay up too late, Torrie," Minerva had said on her way up the stairs. "Riddle isn't worth this much."  
And yet Victoria found herself still awake, sleep as far away as ever. She stared down at her hands, the glinting gold of the key lancing her eyes as she turned it over and over in her hands. It seemed as if she'd never sleep again until she figured out exactly what the key was for, why Riddle had it, why it was so polished, so beautiful, when keys were so outdated.  
As the moon glided gracefully across the dark, plum-stained night sky sprinkled with glistening stars, Victoria ignored everything. Everything but the glistening golden key in her fingers. 


End file.
